


Tyger, Tyger

by heckyeahhh



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Depression, M/M, Watford, basilton pitch is an edgy depressed vampire, baz goes up in flames, because ive been dealing with this and needed to let it out, before i pull my own tyger tyger, oh is that a spoiler, simon snow is worried, well its kinda obvious, when is he not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26930068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckyeahhh/pseuds/heckyeahhh
Summary: Baz is too exhausted to go on, so he doesn't.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow
Kudos: 19





	Tyger, Tyger

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 2 am lmfao sorry i just needed to get my feelings out. they're in watford, baz loves simon, simon likes baz, neither knows it. ending is rough and too quick but enjoy!!
> 
> TW: depression & suicide ig

The depression is probably the most pathetic thing about me. 

Constantly curled up on my bed, staring at nothing, just pitying myself like the self-centered fool that I am. Oftentimes I fall asleep during these pity sessions, waking up with the horrid taste of unbrushed teeth and an unwashed face. And maybe it wouldn’t be such a problem if the sadness limited itself to home; if it kept itself away from the painful brightness of the chosen one or the necessity of attending classes.

I know Simon is worried about me; normally that would even have me jumping for joy, but I can’t really find it in me to care right now. There is nothing to care about. I’m hitting a new low point, a fast burn-out, and honestly I’d rather die than see anyone’s face for the next 24 hours. Except Simon’s. I always want Simon. Although maybe it would be better if he weren’t here—weren’t wearing himself out with concerned glances and an atrocious leaking of magic.

Honestly, the sheer amount of “subtle” looks Simon has given me might even rival my own pining ones.

Kidding. Nothing could rival those, he’s all I ever want to look at.

“Baz,” Simon says hesitantly, disrupting our shroud of silence. “Do you want anything to eat? You missed dinner.”

Sweet, sweet, Simon. Does he know how much I love him? If the war came to a standstill, I’d gladly sacrifice myself for his life. Maybe I should make it easier, kill myself before it ever comes to that. 

But no. I’m a coward. Too pathetic to even kill myself. What kind of depressed vampire can’t even muster the strength to off himself? Quite embarrassing, actually.

“Baz?” Simon repeats, now just sounding awfully sad and a bit scared. I don’t want to make him feel like that. I want to answer him, I do, but the act of opening my mouth and putting my vocal cords into use feels much too exhausting to even consider. Maybe I should just go to sleep.

And so I do.

* * *

The cycle repeats.

It’s always get up, push myself through class (can’t have my grades declining), get back, do homework, fall into a haze of exhaustion. Miss dinner, barely eat breakfast, joke around with Dev & Niall throughout lunch. Good men. I don’t want them to be worried about me. Like Snow is.

He never takes his eyes off me, eyebrows furrowed as if I’m a mystery he hopes to solve. I hope he does too. I’d like to be unraveled by him; in more ways than one.

Sometimes, if I run ahead and shove it out, I can almost ignore the deep sadness and exhaustion pushing at the corners of my brain. I can convince myself that nothing matters except getting by, day by day. I suppose that’s partially why I’m so obsessed with my grades. They’re something to focus on, something to base my self-worth on, something that can distract me from the heavy reality of life. I’m sure Simon knows something about that. He focuses on doing the Mage’s bidding.

Well, not much anymore. Now he’s always hovering around the room, straightening things and opening and closing the window. Nervous energy and unsure steps. But it’s because he cares. Because he has too big a heart to even hate someone who’s bullied him for years. I suppose that’s why I love him.

Now, I’m back in my room. Classes are finished for the day. Homework should be next, but today is even worse than normal. Homework can wait. I collapse onto my bed, turn onto my back, stare listlessly at the ceiling and let my mind wander. I think about my family. I think about Simon. But there are no coherent thoughts; just simple distractions to keep myself away. 

Always tired. Always pathetic. Worrying the love of my life, for what? A little attention?

I know I’m not doing this for attention. It’s hard to banish the thought, though. Pathetic. Can’t even control my own mind.

Simon comes in. Sets a cup of tea on my bedside table. Moves to close the window.

Oh. I didn’t realize it was open. How kind of him.

After doing so, he just hovers. Looks at me out of the corner of his eye. Looks away.

I turn onto my side and go to sleep.

* * *

The third day, when I get to our room and into bed, he’s already there. Once I get comfortable, he begins talking.

“I know we’re not close. I know we haven’t talked much. But are you okay?”

As if he realizes that’s a stupid question, he rushes on.

“I think you’re depressed.”

Oh, does he now?

“I just. I’m here for you, okay? You can always talk to me. I’m here.”

I close my eyes. I don’t want to hear this. Simon gets the hint, places something that smells suspiciously of scones somewhere near me, and leaves the room.

I go to sleep. I sleep a lot these days.

* * *

The next few days go by the same way, blending into each other. Dev and Niall catch onto my exhaustion (I suspect Snow had something to do with it) and try to up my spirits. Nothing works. They deliver my favorite foods to the room. I’m never hungry. Day after day, week after week, I steadily lose my will to live.

Then, my grades slip. Teachers express their disappointment, work piles up on my bedside table. There’s no end in sight. I’m not myself. Too much work, too many days, I break down in tears most nights. Too much work. Too many days.

I make a decision, walk out to the forest after classes on Friday.

**_Tyger, Tyger, Burning Bright!_ **

I go up in flames. I hear shouting. I guess I didn’t go far enough. I feel my essence dripping—no, melting—away. It feels good. Someone grabs and extinguishes me, smelling of smoke, but I’m already gone.


End file.
